


No More Words

by ecouterbien



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:50:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1566911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecouterbien/pseuds/ecouterbien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No more words. Get out!"</p><p>And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter upon the stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of running footfalls from the street.</p><p>(from The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Words

**Author's Note:**

> Post events of episode 2x22, "Paint it Black"

The knock on the door comes late enough to pique Sherlock’s attention, but not enough for him to worry. He shifts his wrists slightly and undoes the lock he’s picked his way out of. She’s come sooner than he expected.

When he answers the door Mary Watson doesn’t stop to greet him. She marches past him until she reaches the foot of the stairs where she does an about face. 

“Joan’s room.”

“First floor, i-immediately to the left,” he stammers, still holding the door where he’s opened it.

She turns away from him again, marches up the stairs and, when she gets to Joan’s room, opens it without knocking. She is immediately struck by its emptiness. Apart from the bed there is no other furniture that she can see. Paint is peeling from the walls, even the glow of the bedside lamp can’t hide its shabbiness. Her heart sinks. Joan had always been disciplined, disinclined to clutter, but this was spartan living taken to its extreme. This wasn’t a room where someone lived, it was a place where someone slept because they had to sleep somewhere.

“GO AW – mom, what are you doing here?” Joan rubs her eyes as her mother sits on her bed and places the bag of steaming food at her feet. She takes note: No bedside table, only piles of books; a bedside lamp on top of one pile, an alarm clock on top of the other. Its flashing digits are hours out of time.

“I hope you’re going to tell me this – “ Mary slides her gaze over the empty room “is temporary?”

“Mom, we’ve had this conversation before, it’s just until I get back on my feet.” She sits up in bed, hunching her knees under her chin.

“Joan. We had this conversation over a year ago. There’s nothing temporary about a year.”

“Mom – “

“ – Here you are, back in this house with that man who got you kidnapped – “

“ – How did you even know? I didn’t tell you,” Joan pulls her red sweater around her, “I didn’t want you to worry. I’m ok, I just need to sleep it off.”

“He called me. One decent thing he did.” Mary shifts up the bed and sits next to Joan. She pulls Joan close to her and Joan lets her.

“It doesn’t matter how grown up you get, and you’re more grown up than I ever was at this age, I still worry about you. I always will. Now, move over, I’ve got dumplings and pào mó that’s going cold.”

Joan holds the steaming bowl of pào mó in her lap, a smile slowly spreading across her face.

“This smells exactly like what you used to make. Did you make this, mom? You haven’t cooked like this in years!”

Mary waves away Joan’s question with a flick of her wrist. “Since when is it strange for a mother to take care of her daughter?”  
“Well your daughter’s a grown woman, mom, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh Joan, I feel I’ve pushed you into this in some way, but is it really wise? Look at this place, it’s so empty, this isn’t you, Joan. I thought you’d got past doing penance when you took up with Sherlock, but I see this room and I don’t know.”

“Mom, please.” Joan puts another dumpling in her mouth, she needs more time to think.

“He puts you in these dangerous situations, Joan, this isn’t the first time.”

“But he doesn’t, mom, I do that. That’s a choice that I make for myself.”

“And that’s the same choice I made with your father. We both know how that ended up.”

“What is that supposed to mean exactly? Are you saying he’s mentally unstable?” Joan sets the bowl on the floor and climbs off the bed.

“His behaviour is…erratic at best. Joan, you met him because you were his sober companion.”

“Addiction isn't the same thing as schizophrenia, you know that.” Joan inhales sharply and pulls on her trainers, tying the laces more tightly than she normally would.

“I just don’t think this is the best place for you right now.” Joan fumbles in the closet for her headphones and running jacket. “Joan, I didn’t come here to lecture you.” Joan brushes past her, pausing on the threshold of the room.

“Well you have a strange way of not lecturing me. Oddly, it feels like every other lecture you’ve given me.”

“Joan. You know how proud I am,” she pauses, “how proud your father would be, of your becoming a doctor, but if it made you unhappy then I’m not going to be disappointed in you for giving up all that hard work.”

“And?” She resists the urge to tap her feet, but her toes wriggle impatiently inside her trainers.

“But two career changes in as many years? I’m worried for you, Joan. And I’m not happy that you’re still here with him. You need to get away, think it through somewhere else. Let me pay for a hotel.”

“You know, I’ve got an awful lot of people milling around trying to tell me what’s best for me without even listening to what I want. Maybe if they actually did they’d be helpful.” Joan pulls the beanie over her head and adjusts the headphones in her ears.

“Okay, alright, I’m listening.”

“I want you all to leave me alone.” 

Joan turns and leaves the room. She quickly makes her way downstairs and out the door before Sherlock can accost her. The cold air stings her cheeks. She picks up her pace and listens to her heart as it beats in time with the drumming of her feet on the pavement.


End file.
